Let's not be shy," says Jan McGuinness, "the whole business of
running a writing festival has become a blood sport."

It's an odd expression to use about such a genteel event as a
gathering of writers and readers. But for McGuinness, the
chairwoman of the Age Melbourne Writers' Festival board of
directors, the competition has become cut-throat.

What do you need for a successful festival? First and foremost,
you have to hook a few big fish from overseas to headline your
program. But you're not the only festival with its hook in the
water. These days the Melbourne event competes with writers'
festivals in every major Australian city, some of them wealthy
enough to offer both a free program for audiences and
extra-tempting packages for the stars.

This year, McGuinness was hoping to lure megaselling American
writer Bill Bryson to the festival's sister event, Writers at Como,
in February. Bryson did come to Melbourne - but not to Como.
Instead, he chose to go to the Perth writers' festival, with a
promise of a little holiday to Broome thrown in.

Once, the offer of a business-class flight to Australia was
attractive; now, big-name writers expect first-class travel. Once,
publishers helped out by paying for flights; now, they are cutting
back on expenses. One major publisher announced recently it would
not be subsidising any more travel.

On the face of it, this shouldn't bother an established festival
with a 20-year history and an astonishing track record; a festival
that has more than quadrupled its audience in a decade; a festival
with a strong and growing reputation for debate over the big ideas
and issues of our times; a festival where 98 per cent of its
audience say in exit surveys that they intend to come back next
year.

And yet there's a growing worry that Melbourne might be falling
behind.

While discovering writers you've never heard of is one of the
pleasures of a good writers' festival, readers still look for a few
household names at the top of the guest list. Increasingly,
Melburnians are scanning the list and saying "Who's that?"

So with the imminent departure of Simon Clews, the festival
director for the past 14 years, the Melbourne festival's 20th
anniversary seems a good time to take stock. For the first time,
the festival will be commissioning extensive market research
surveys of publishers, authors, sponsors and audiences about what
they see as its good and bad points, where it stands and where it
should be going.

Elsewhere, enterprising festival directors with fat budgets woo
their stars with all kinds of goodies. In Canada, Sydney Writers'
Festival director Caro Llewellyn hooked one of her top attractions,
2004 Booker prizewinner Alan Hollinghurst, by slipping a personal
note under his hotel door, together with a DVD showing writers at
the festival enjoying sun, harbour views and fine Australian
wines.

But Melbourne doesn't have the money to approach writers
directly, or to compete in the writers' perks department.

McGuinness says the festival is still getting name writers, but
agrees that getting them is a problem.

"Big names can be very easily seduced; in their own way they are
celebrities, and they can be incredibly demanding. You can't blame
them, it's a long way, and they only come out here once a year.
That's why funding is what it's all about," she says.

And funding is where Melbourne has slipped back. For years, the
festival has made do with a public subsidy of $65,000 a year
($40,000 from the State Government, $25,000 from the City of
Melbourne). Although the State Government recently donated an extra
$100,000, which McGuinness says is "a great big shot in the arm",
it hasn't changed the picture: "It just about brings us up to where
we should have been anyway, it's not like suddenly our finances
have been turned around."

For most of its history, the festival has managed with just one
paid member of staff (now it's two, and one part-timer) and an army
of volunteers. There is still a vigorous push for more private
sponsorship (sponsors include The Age), with promising
results from a recent fund-raiser. But what McGuinness wants is a
much bigger budget to bring out and entertain top-name writers, and
to advertise and market the festival properly.

Meanwhile, the Sydney festival gets a generous $460,000 a year
in public funds; Perth is also well funded; and Adelaide has the
prestige of being Australia's oldest literary festival and the
advantage of being held every two years, so funds go much
further.

So how can Melbourne continue to compete?

"We're a ticketed event and there's no escaping that,"
McGuinness says. "But I'm very aware that we run the risk of not
being accessible for all, particularly young people. You get round
that by broadening your program."

One persistent criticism of the festival is that it's a "sea of
grey heads" event, appealing primarily to the middle-aged and
older, particularly women.

McGuinness has various ideas to broaden the attractions. One is
to hold a free, live satellite cross event in Federation Square, an
onscreen interview with a famous author. They tried to arrange such
an event for this year - authors approached included J. K. Rowling,
Stephen King and Barry Humphries - but in the end they ran out of
time.

Other ideas include more events in the city, such as poetry
readings in cafes and bars with a young clientele; advertising the
festival at universities; cheaper forms of tickets, or overflow
tickets; or a marquee outside the festival where audiences who
can't get into a sell-out event can see the show onscreen at a
reduced price.

"At the moment, people have to book a month in advance - and no
young person knows what they are doing tomorrow," McGuinness
says.

One thing she knows annoys festivalgoers is the crowding. The
Malthouse is too small to take 36,000 visitors: at peak times the
sessions are sold out and people are turned away, there's not
enough parking nearby, the bookshop is packed and there are long
queues for book signings, refreshments and toilets. While
McGuinness doesn't want to change the main venue, she hopes to ease
the pressure by expanding further into the neighbouring ACCA
building and precinct, and other city venues.

Where does she see the festival in another 20 years? "Oh, who
knows, a multimedia extravaganza! Perhaps it will all be done
online, in people's homes."

Whatever happens, she's hoping the writers' festival will still
be embedded in the city's life, like the arts festival or the Grand
Prix or the Australian Open. "It's a cultural event that reflects
the personality of the city. I would like it to become like
Edinburgh: a 'must do'."

Jane Sullivan will interview award-winning novelist
Sonya Hartnett at the Malthouse on August 28.